


Cherry Wine

by NotManTheLessButNatureMore



Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith
Genre: Domestic Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Violence, Non-Graphic Violence, Past Domestic Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-16
Updated: 2018-09-16
Packaged: 2019-07-13 07:09:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16012847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotManTheLessButNatureMore/pseuds/NotManTheLessButNatureMore
Summary: **warning for domestic abuse - if this is a trigger for you/not something you want to read then I apologise and please depart here**“It’s not like I can’t take it.” He huffed a laugh with a grin that stretched his split lip and then, a moment that broke Robin’s heart, furrowed his brow in confusion as if he’d just realised what he’d said.





	Cherry Wine

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for the warning overload but again I'd like to warn you that if domestic abuse is a trigger/has been an issue for you then maybe sit this one out.
> 
> This was an idea brewing in my mind since I first heard 'Cherry Wine' by Hozier and immediately thought of Cormoran and Charlotte's relationship. However, this has been hastily written because Lethal White is out in 2 days (YAY) and let's be real we're all gonna have out heads stuck in the book for how ever many days and fanfic will be on the back burner. Therefore, there might be a few mistakes/inaccuracies, but hopefully you can forgive me. :)
> 
> P.S. for extra feels go listen to Cherry Wine as you read this, I did while writing it.

Robin shoved the front door open, balancing two coffees and a bag containing their lunch from the Pret down the road. A woman’s scream greeted her and with a sense of déjà vu she raced up the stairs somehow managing not to spill the coffees on herself. The closer to the office she got the louder the screaming got, now accompanied by various thuds. She burst through the door and was confronted with Charlotte, hair in disarray, an ashtray in hand and looking like a banshee taking her revenge. The room seemed to freeze. There were papers everywhere, her mug broken on the floor, the kettle lying in a puddle of water by the fridge and the chair by her desk where Cormoran had been sitting discussing a case before she left to get lunch was toppled over. As if someone had been pushed out of it. 

As Charlotte looked at her with pupils of venom she turned to her right. Cormoran was sitting on the couch with his head in his hands and eyes on the floor. Charlotte huffed and placed the ashtray gently on Robin’s desk, as though Robin had rudely interrupted a date and not… this. Robin turned and watched silently as she picked up her handbag, ran a hand through her hair and with a glance in Cormoran’s direction brushed past Robin and left. A cold sense of dread settled in Robin’s chest as she turned to see a single drop of blood drip from Cormoran’s bent head to the floor.

“Cormoran?”

“Lunch didn’t take long.” His head stayed bowed and Robin watched his back broaden as he took a deep breath and then stood, walking past her to pick up the broken mug.

“Cormoran.” Robin realised she had dropped the bag of lunch and coffees when he stooped to pick them up before gathering the papers on the floor into bunches.

Robin realised her hands had started to shake as she followed him to look at his face. Blood was smeared across his chin from a split lip, his cheek was raw and red looking and his hair was sticking up on the left side, the way it did when he was frustrated and pulled at it.

“Cormoran. Did she… Cormoran?” Robin could have cried at her inability to say the words. If she was honest, she felt out of her depth. This morning he was Cormoran and now… she wanted to slap herself for even thinking he was any less than the man she knew him to be, but it was hard when he was looking at her like he was a child and she could fix everything if she would just take him away from here. Robin felt her eyes tear up causing Strike’s mask to slip back into place as he sat back down onto the couch.

“It’s not like I can’t take it.” He huffed a laugh with a grin that stretched his split lip and then, a moment that broke Robin’s heart, furrowed his brow in confusion as if he’d just realised what he’d said.

“Oh, Cormoran.” Every fibre of her being told her not to cry, not to show pity, because she knew him enough to know that it was what he feared. It wouldn’t be the admittance of what was happening, it would be the pity that would inevitably creep across the faces of those closest to him.

“Don’t say anything to Nick and Ilsa, please. They’ll just… it’ll be...”

“Has she hurt you before?” It felt like such an empty question to ask as she thought back to their first meeting. The rips in his shirt, the office in disarray, the cuts he had. She thought about the looks that Nick and Ilsa would give each other when Charlotte’s name came up, how Nick’s eyes would drop to his lap. Robin had walked in on them arguing in their kitchen the night that Strike, after downing cans of Doom Bar like his life depended on it, had told them he and Charlotte were seeing each other again. Did Nick know? Suspect, even?

He ignored her question and again asked her not to tell Nick and Ilsa.

“Do they know? What about Shanker?”

“They don’t. I think Shanker suspects it’s happening again.”

“Again?” Shanker knew. Robin imagined herself slapping him the next time she saw him. Why hadn’t he stopped it? Why hadn’t he driven Charlotte to some forest as far away from Cormoran as possible and left her there?

“He picked the lock to her place once. Walked in as I was getting dressed. He followed her the next day and scared her...” His voice trailed off.

Strike looked up at her, barely raising his head enough to make eye contact.

“It’s… It’s not… She just doesn’t know how to… Fuck!”

Robin’s hand traced a pattern across his shoulders and Strike bit the inside of his lip to stop it from shaking. He dropped his head in defeat and took a deep breath as the realisation dawned on him.

“How did I end up like her?”

“You’re nothing like her! She’s abusive Cormoran, she’s-“

“Not Charlotte. My mum.” Robin’s mouth curled around a silent oh! Her hand stilled on his back and she felt his shoulders slump further.

“All the times I fought with her, shouted at her, made her cry, just to try and get her to stop loving them. All the men that she declared her undying love for who repaid her with a slap across the face or a new supply of drugs. I begged her to stop.” Cormoran thought to himself, how easy it is to become blind when you’re the one on the inside.

A silence settled on the room and Robin had never felt more inadequate or overwhelmed in her life. She guilty thought about her family home, about sitting around the fire with her parents and brothers and Rowntree nestled against her feet. The entirety of the english language seemed to have escaped her as she realised with a great sadness how completely opposing their lives had been. The only thing she could think to do was reach out and grasp his forearm. He pulled it out of her grip and reached up to wipe his bleeding lip which had started to drip down his chin again. She noticed his hand was shaking.

“Cormoran, I don’t know what to say.” Robin felt a tear crawl down her cheek and she watched as his eyes began to look distant, as if he was lost in a memory.

“I begged her time after time to stop loving them. I asked her ‘Wasn’t my love enough? Weren’t we enough?’. Do you know what she said? She kissed me on the forehead and said ‘It’s not the same darling’.” He laughed and shook his head.

“Oh, Cormoran.” She sat down and pulled him unwillingly towards her, his body twisted so she was hugging him with one arm across his chest and one across his back. His chin came to rest on her forearm and she pressed her cheek against the back of her shoulder. 

“I’m so sorry.” She looked up at the ceiling to try and stop any tears escaping onto his shirt.

They pulled apart and Cormoran walked to the kitchenette to pick up the leaking kettle.

“Why her Cormoran?” He turned to look at her, her brow furrowed.

The room felt still as they watched each other silently. He wanted to say so many things to her. Who else? You? You married Matthew. What are my other options? Are they any better than Charlotte? With her it’s a few days in hell in exchange for a moment or two of bliss. A fair trade to have a warm body next to his when the nights became darker. 

“Do you love her?” Robin asked quietly.

“I don’t think it was ever about love.” Cormoran admitted sadly to himself.

“There are so many other-“

“You gonna give me the ‘plenty of other fish in the sea’ talk.” A crooked smile appeared on his face.

“Shut up. I don’t know what to say, okay. Cormoran this is…”

“It’s not like I haven’t had worse from a client, is it? Come on, we’ve got-“

“You’re an amazing man. You’re strong and you have a kind heart and you never turn your back on anyone that needs help-“

“Robin-“

“Shut up! You’re funny too and you’re a good friend and you’re loyal and…” Robin’s voice trailed off as her vision swam with tears.

“You’re not seeing her again. Never. And I’m telling Nick and Ilsa, okay. Ilsa can get a barring order or something and Nick and I will stalk you if we have to but you’re never seeing her again.”

“Robin.”

“I mean it Cormoran. You don’t deserve this. What if she pushes you down the stairs next time? I mean, christ, what has she done to you already that none of us know about.” He bowed his head as Robin tried to calm her anger.

“That time last month when you rang me to say you were sick, you told me not to come upstairs and check on you because you were staying at Charlotte’s. Were you really sick?” Her face had flushed red and her nose was running now, the way it did when she got upset. He wanted to tell her that he was sick, that he’d puked his guts up and Charlotte had taken care of him, but he was too tired of it all to even think up a lie. The truth was that she had stormed into his flat in a rage because he wouldn’t dress up like a monkey and go to an event with her. She and his useless leg conspired against him and he ended up falling over his armchair and hitting his head on the wall behind. He remembered seeing her pause and look down at him with what he hoped to be concern before leaving him there and slamming the door on her way out. He wasn’t entirely lying when he’d told Robin he’d spent the night puking his guts up. 

He dropped his head into his hands as he thought how pathetic he was. He’d sent Robin a text when morning came and then lay silently on his bed watching his clock through blurry vision, not daring to move until he knew she was gone out to meet a client. He listened to life going on outside and below him, as he lay silently wondering if Charlotte would call to ask if he was okay, to apologise and call him bluey and cry about how much of a monster she was. It was the same every time. She would pretend to be a broken thing and look at him with doe eyes and he’d have to fix her.

No call or visit had come. 

A text came from Robin, updating him on cases and telling him that Charlotte was probably taking care of everything but if he needed something he knew where she was. He’d listened to the noise outside increase as people began their treks home and imagined he could hear Robin putting away case files and turning off lights. He thought he’d heard her keys jangle as she locked the office door and for a small moment he’d begged long-abandoned gods to hear her footsteps come up the attic stairs. He could have cried at his impotence. 

“Robin, please just stop. This has nothing to do with you.” He pulled away from her and stood.

“You’re my best friend and she’s been abusing you.”

“Stop!” His shout made Robin flinch.

“I’m not doing this now. You’ll be late for your surveillance and I have to ring Wardle.” And with that he walked into his office and slammed the door shut behind him and turned the lock. He threw the nearest thing to hand, a mug full of pens, across the room and kicked his chair against the wall.

How could he make her realize that he’d chosen this. He knew Charlotte better than anyone, even her now ex-husband, and he knew that kisses came with an open hand and sex would bring ecstasy and pain. He had chosen this because for all of his assurances to Lucy that he was fine alone and all the times he told Nick or uncle Ted that he was happy without a family, slowly the cold had started to creep in like a mist and envelope him. He could never tell Robin this because it had started after her wedding. For all of the great and convincing lies his mind had conjured throughout his life it suddenly seemed to fall apart in the car with Shanker on the way back to London. The office was too quiet so he went to the pub and started fights with Chelsea supporters and got drunk in Whitechapel cemetery with Shanker. The mornings became as worse as the nights and then exactly 30 hours before a tanned Robin would place her new bag by her desk and flick the switch on the kettle Charlotte had knocked on his door in tears. The princess had divorced her prince charming, let down her hair and only bluey could make the ascent. Who else knows you like I do, she had said as they lay in bed together. That was the first sting.

But every piece of darkness she brought with her was somehow dwarfed by her hands on his shoulders as he took off his leg, or her legs wrapped around his in sleep. It didn’t escape him that these were moments when he couldn’t see her face, when her hands could have been anyones. On the worst nights, her hands were Robin’s. 

He shut his eyes, pressed his palms hard against them and waited. He watched as orange and red stars began to swirl and burst in his vision. He blocked out the voice in his head that called him an idiot and took a steady breathe. He hadn’t done this in years, not since he lost his leg and before that not since he was a child. He used to pretend he wasn’t in the room anymore, that he was lying in a field somewhere watching the stars.

He listened closely but Robin had made no moves to leave.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, and hopefully I haven't made your day too bleak :) It may feel a little like an abrupt ending but I haven't quite worked out the next scene and I also want to involve Nick and Ilsa but I wanted to get this out before Lethal White arrives (again YAY). A follow up chapter will probably appear whenever I finish reading Lethal White. Thanks again!


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